Griffin's Egg
by TrueShun
Summary: Arthur had simply wanted to reclaim his family's former honor, he hadn't expected his summoning to bring forth a high ranking Spirit from the Otherside. Instead of honor, Amelia only brings fourth questions. Who is General Winter, and what does he have against the Kirkland family? RusAme fem!America


a/n: Hey guys, this lovely plot idea was sent to me by Plot Bunnies Will Kill Me.

disclaimer: Hetalia-Axis Powers does not belong to me.

Character Names:

Fem!America = Amelia

India = Amir

Scotland = Alistair

Chapter 1: Prelude

* * *

Kirkland manor had always been, so if you were to ask the locals just when it had been founded they would shake their heads, unsure. But if one were to ask one of the Kirkland family members all they would receive was the standard response "always" with a small, secretive smile which seemed to suggest that it knew more than it was willing to tell.

In a world where alchemy was widely used, the Kirkland's were one of the widely known alchemists. There was none better.

Or so that _had_ been the case.

What would their ancestors say if they saw them now? Arthur narrowed his eyes as he scanned the papers before him, the thought surprising him. Did his brothers ever think about their father? Their grandparents? The people who had made something of the family line?

A small smile graced his lips, bitter and amused all the same. It didn't matter if they thought about them, his brothers weren't alchemists. They didn't make anything but deals. Self-taught alchemists they would tell others.

But he knew better.

It didn't matter what his brothers did, they couldn't ruin the family name any further than they already had. "But that's fine," he said gently, his gaze glassy as he reread the words before him. This contract would soon give him the freedom he wanted, and with that freedom he would be able to reclaim the title of alchemist for his family.

"I couldn't be rid of these fools any quicker." Arthur placed the contract down carefully, his mind already abuzz by the possibilities of his soon to be freedom. He had waited _years_ to leave the family manor, or was it much longer than that? When had he realized that his elder brothers were idiots? Was it when he found out that they were frauds? Or when he found out about their shady dealings? "Probably all of it." He decided.

This city wasn't for him. He was known here, and not for what he wanted to be known for. Everyone in this blasted city associated him with his brothers, and that assumption couldn't be any further from the truth. He was, indeed, an alchemist. And a damn good one, too. Nothing like his brothers, and self-taught to boot.

Arthur glanced down at the contract lying before him, a mix of joy and apprehension flowing through him. Legally he wasn't the owner of the shop, well, not yet anyway. Not until a few more day, when he would turn eighteen. But he had asked for the contract there and then, he couldn't quite believe that the owner of the shop had complied. Perhaps the Kirkland name still carried weight after all.

It wasn't a fancy shop, but it wasn't too shabby either. It was a good place for an alchemist who was starting off.

* * *

"Hmn, this one looks nice," Arthur ran his finger around the cauldron, his hopeful gaze falling. "But it feels weak." He sighed, running his hand through his dirty-blonde hair. "This is the third shop, how can none of these places have a decent cauldron?" Arthur glanced down at the various bags beside him. He had already attained various herbs and compounding ingredients for the shop, the cauldron was the only thing missing. Why was it so bloody hard to find a decent cauldron? The city was teeming with alchemist! Did none of these so called alchemists know a good cauldron from garbage?

Arthur grabbed his bags, slightly leaning forward from the weight. He walked out from the shop calmly, hoping that his discomfort wasn't too visible. There weren't many shops left to visit. He placed his bags down, stretching his arms as he looked around the streets. His emerald gaze fell upon the old shop that his late father had often frequented. He turned quickly, his body rigid as he felt his skin grow cold. He hadn't stepped foot in that shop in so long. In fact, he had gone so far as to avoid this street. These people here remembered the Kirkland alchemist as they had once been. After his father's death he couldn't stand the way they would look at him and his brothers.

Eyes full of pity, some with mockery in their eyes and feigned sorrow. Arthur grimaced at the memory. He had taken it in stride, but only for so long. He had ended up avoiding this area, this particular street.

All because these people remembered his father, remembered the great Kirkland family as they had once been. And they _knew_. Knew that everything that had once made his family great was now a lie.

The bastards… he'd show them all. This wasn't a foolish notion. He would succeed. His ancestors had built the family empire. What was to stop him from rebuilding it?

Alchemy, magic, it all flowed through his veins, and unlike his brothers he welcomed it with open arms.

With renewed vigor Arthur grabbed his bags and marched towards the shop that he hadn't stepped foot in since his youth. He opened the door, each step full of purpose.

It was the same.

Objects lay upon one another chaotically, but there was a familiarity that he knew all to well. Arthur walked forward, reaching out towards the cauldrons lining the shelves. Cool, strong metal greeted his flesh. "Now _this_ is what a real alchemist would use," he said with a smile. Arthur dropped the bags absentmindedly, his focus all on the cauldron before him. It seemed older than the other cauldrons around it, but there was something about the old pot that pulled his attention. The design was simple, but it was built sturdy. He could brew about nearly everything, and the pot would still hold its shape. "Whoever built this really knew what they were doing."

"Ah, I see that cauldron's caught your attention." Came a voice behind him.

Arthur smiled nervously as he turned. A young man stood before him, a pleasant smile on his lips. "Yes," he nodded towards the pot, "it's built quite sturdy. The blacksmith who made it really knew what an alchemist would want."

The man nodded. "That's true, sir. They really don't make them like that anymore. Are you interested in purchasing it?"

Arthur nodded. He needed to by cautious with his spending, but there was no way that he would scrimp on a good cauldron. It was essential that everything he purchased be of the best quality.

The man walked towards the cauldron, his gaze lingering on Arthur longer than necessary. "We've had this cauldron for awhile," he said as he grabbed the pot. "Are you an alchemist? You must be if you were able to tell the quality from just a touch"

Arthur's smile dropped instantly. Was he an alchemist? He had assumed that the man had recognized him… had the people in this area really forgotten about the Kirkland family? About his father?

"I'm a self-taught alchemist," he spat out irritated. The man nodded slowly, only now did he realize that he had said something offensive.

The man looked at Arthur a bit put off. "I'll go ring this up for you." He left before Arthur could even respond.

"Am I an alchemist…" he muttered darkly to himself. Of course he was! Arthur wandered the shop angrily, a dark gloom seeming to radiate from his very core. Slowly, ever so slowly, his anger lifted. The attendant in the shop might have changed, but the building had remained unchanged. It seemed that even time was unable to change the very being of this store. Nothing had changed, not the layout, nor the items sold, and certainly not the smell.

He breathed in heavily, the smell of old, dusty books filling the air. Arthur's gleaming emerald eyes closed of their own accord, his mind transported back to the past by the passage of time, written in nothing else but paper, ink, and dust.

His father had taken him to the store quite frequently. It was always him and his father… and _him_. Arthur scowled in annoyance at the memory. He had never had a problem with the Spirits from the Otherside, it wasn't unusual for alchemist to have a Spirit help them in their work.

But then there were alchemist like his brothers. Not alchemist by trade, only name. They didn't actually make anything, they relied on their Spirits to craft for them. It was deplorable.

Amir had always helped his father, but with his father's passing, he went from simply helping to being the sole alchemist for the family. When word had gotten out that a Spirit was responsible for the crafts of the Kirkland family… well, it was no surprise that they were mocked and ridiculed.

Arthur looked at the books sadly, his voice soft, "Imbeciles, the lot of them." The books were raged, spines destroyed with pages hanging loose from their bindings. Arthur flipped through one book, but the smell of the past was too much. He nearly threw it back onto the stack of books, only his reverence for their knowledge stopped him from doing so.

Footsteps echoed behind him, but he paid it no heed. It wasn't until the footsteps had turned to words that he heard the name that pulled him from his thoughts.

"Yes, the rumor going around is that General Winter is coming here."

Arthur's eyes widened.

"Really, Winter?" Arthur recognized the voice as the young man who had helped him earlier. He inched closer towards the pair, his face buried absentmindedly in a book. "Do you know why he would be coming here?"

"Seems he has business to deal with. Something about summoning a Spirit from the Otherside."

The shopkeeper snorted. "A Spirit? I'm sure an alchemist of Winter's standing could summon a Spirit easily. Why come to Kalm for that?"

"Maybe it's not an ordinary Spirit? Could be one of those high-level Spirits that rarely come here. The Kirkland's used to have one, you know."

Arthur looked up discreetly at the pair. Anybody who knew a thing about alchemy knew the name of General Winter. An extraordinary alchemist who seemed to come out of nowhere, bringing with him superior quality like none had seen since, well, the golden era of alchemy. Even he had been surprised by the quality of General Winter's work.

But it wasn't just the fact that Winter was a damn good alchemist that had attracted him to the conversation. His brothers had been mentioning the name quite frequently, too frequently, in fact. It didn't help his curiosity that his brothers would hush-up the moment they would see him. Just what was Winter's relationship with his brothers?

"The Kirkland's? You mean the people up in that massive manor?" There was a shuffle of clothing, as the man nodded. Arthur turned back, his posture relaxed as he casually read the pages before him. He felt the shopkeepers gaze on him for a brief appraising second. "Don't they still have a Spirit hanging around them? That Light Spirit, I remember him coming here a lot when I was younger."

"Yes, that Amir fellow. He's been summoned by quite a few members of that family. Must truly like them, seeing as he's stuck around for quite a few generations." Arthur frowned at the comment. How did this man know so much about his family? He glanced at him quickly, trying to recall the face, but it was a fruitless endeavor. "Wonder what his thoughts on the current family members are. Think he's disappointed? Knowing the family at their peak, and then seeing them as they are now. Think he regrets giving them the seal of his summoning?"

Arthur spluttered, his grip tight on the book before him. Who was he to judge his family? Knowing a bit of knowledge about them didn't give him the right to make such baseless assumptions. If Amir didn't like them, then he would have gotten rid of that summoning contract on his own accord before his father had died. Without it, it would be damn near impossible to summon him particularly.

"Excuse me," Arthur breathed out with obvious annoyance. "Seeing as you're obviously not too busy, as you're talking _baseless_ gossip," he stared at the older gentleman scathingly, "why don't you send that cauldron to my home?"

"Uh," the shopkeep looked at him embarrassed. "Certainly, sir, terribly sorry about this." He pulled out a memo hastily, nearly dropping it in his rush. "I just need your address, sir."

"My address? Why don't you ask him?" Arthur nodded towards the other man. "It seems he knows quite a lot about my families Spirit, surely he must know where Kirkland manor is, too." The man's gaze widened, a look of extreme discomfort visible on his face. But it wasn't enough to lift Arthur's mood. "I'll pay once the cauldron's been delivered."

He turned from the pair, ignoring the clerks apologies as he grabbed his bags and left the store with his head held high. He hadn't wanted to drag the blasted cauldron home anyway.

* * *

"Young Master…" Arthur scrunched his eyes closed as he burrowed his face into his arms. His dreams called out to him fervently, and just as he gave in to their demands he heard a low chuckle from the mishmash of his dreaming world.

Arthur sat up, rubbing the traces of sleep from his face. Had he fallen asleep in the library again? He looked up at the man beside him, his stomach clenching uncomfortably as Amir's laugh filled the large room. That sound had often lulled him to sleep and now… Arthur shook his head. This wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"I've brought you tea," he said gently, the smell of chamomile slowly wafting from the teapot. Arthur watched Amir with feigned disinterest. The words from the shop had bothered him more than he had realized. For once he couldn't shrug them off. They clung to him, pulling him from his readings, from the present. Making him remember how things had once been.

And he didn't want to remember.

Because part of him feared that the man might be right. Amir had been summoned by the first Kirkland alchemist. He had seen how real alchemists were to act. And what an alchemist his ancestor must have been, to receive the summoning seal of a Spirit. It was more than just a contract, it was a sign of respect and loyalty. By giving his summoning seal, he had intertwined his life with that of the Kirkland line.

And how had they repaid him? By changing his role. Spirits weren't like regular mortals, their bodies worked differently. They handled magic differently from a regular person, alchemy responded to them much more volatilely than it would with a normal person. But if a Spirit would channel their abilities through a human, the chaotic nature of their skills would be tamed, but at the cost of quality. His family had always channeled Amir's powers in alchemy, most alchemist did, but those like his brothers prided quality over safety.

Amir was solely responsible for any alchemy done under the Kirkland name. There was no channeling of his abilities, and the results were often unpredictable.

Arthur bit his lip anxiously… did Amir regret giving them his summoning seal? Why hadn't he torn the damn paper when word had reached home of his father's passing? He knew better than anyone what his brothers were capable of, so why hadn't he done it? Why did he let them resummon Amir?

His emerald gaze fell on the teacup before him, his gaze distant.

Because he hadn't wanted to be left alone. Not in this too big home, with brothers who clashed with him on everything. Amir was his friend… and he had allowed this to happen. His selfishness had tied Amir to this new "alchemy" that his brothers were practicing.

Of course Amir regretted his decision, but Arthur would be damned if that would be the case once he made a name for himself. Amir would be free then, because there was no way that he would allow his brothers to remain the heads of the household.

Arthur reached out confidently, his emotions under tight check. "Thank you," he said softly, his eyes never leaving the pages from the books spread out before him. At the first sip his eyes closed, a blissful sigh leaving his lips. Hints of apple and something earthly filled his senses, the aromatic smell of the chamomile flowers relaxing him. Amir used to make this tea for him as a child, when monsters would plague his dreams.

How had he known that monsters, true monsters, were once more making their mark on him?

Amir glanced at the books before Arthur, his gaze slowly moving back to him. "Your grandfather wrote an essay on that very subject. If you wish, I can look for it. I think it would be much more thorough than that book. Valentine wasn't much of a scholar… or much of a drinker," he added as an afterthought.

"You knew Stephen Valentine?" he asked surprised, only to receive an amused grin from Amir.

"I knew many alchemist, but none knew more about alchemy than this family. I don't think those up and coming alchemist will achieve this level of excellence until quite some time." Amir furrowed his brows in thought after the statement, and more to himself than to Arthur whispered, "Except him."

Arthur raised a brow, but didn't question the statement. Whatever Amir's thoughts were, there was no way that he would get a straight answer from him. The days of trusting him had ended when his dear brother, Alistair, had taken Amir as his Spirit. And Arthur suspected that the trust Amir had in him was just as destroyed. After all, he could have torn that contract seal, right?

Certainly made these moments awkward and… just more hurtful then they needed to be. "Did my grandfather write a lot of these books? I thought I read everything by him already."

"Your grandfather was a brilliant man, but even he was entitled to secrets." Arthur was pulled by the voice, strong and ancient, just like when he was a child he couldn't help but be caught up by every single word that Amir uttered.

"Secrets?"

Amir nodded with a knowing smile. "I'll look for them. Your grandfather could never hide his secrets from me. I seem to recall some of his favorite hiding spots." Arthur couldn't help the smile, Amir sounded happy, and for a moment, just a tiny moment, he felt like a child once more being watched by Amir.

Arthur watched him curiously, noticing the hesitation that had crossed Amir's face for a second. He looked up, catching Arthur's gaze, and smiled. "Your brother has a very important guest coming," he said casually, as he refilled Arthur's teacup. "He should be coming within a few days." He placed the teapot down gently, his chestnut-brown eyes locking onto Arthur's. "It seems that he's very interested in your grandfather's unpublished work."

"And what, my brothers are actually considering selling it?" Amir didn't respond. He turned, seeing the passive look on his face. "You've got to be kidding me. Who, who is it that they're planning to sell them too?" Arthur said angrily. Whoever it was, they must be extremely wealthy.

"General Winter, young master."

And there it was again, Winter. Is this why his brothers kept whispering the name when they thought he wouldn't hear? "Just who is he?"

"Of all my time among mortals, I'm not sure," he said as he took the now empty teacup. "It seems as if he sprung from literally out of nowhere." Amir stood, brushing his ebony bangs from his face. "If you'll excuse me. I'll try and find those books from your grandfather." He turned, each step magnifying as he sauntered ever closer to the door.

"Uh – thank you, for the tea, that is." Arthur turned back, his face flustered as he eyed the book before him

Amir shook his head. "No need to thank me." He felt Amir's heavy gaze on him. Being watched by him had always made him feel safe, why now did it make him feel apprehensive? Amir breathed in, before exhaling a weary sigh. A turn of a knob, then footsteps. And like always he was left alone.

Arthur gripped the locket around his neck bitterly. Why was he always left with just memories?

* * *

What was going on? Arthur looked at his eldest brother warily. Alistair never ate his dinner with the rest of them. Always claiming to be too busy. He suspected that it had to do with what Amir had told him.

"I've seen the place you're planning to buy. Any reason you chose a place that far?"

Or perhaps not. "It's a pretty village."

Alistair gave him a scathing look. "Arthur, look, despite what you think I do care. Korignton is quite far. Just because it's little doesn't mean that nothing bad happens there."

Care? His brothers certainly had an interesting way of showing it. "It's as good as any place to start off. Not many alchemist in that village."

Alistair ran his hand through his red hair in aggravation. "You can be an alchemist here, too," he said at last.

It was a lie. They both knew it.

"I want to practice a different alchemy, not what you and Dylan practice." He saw Alistair's body stiffen.

Neither said anything, an awkward silence hanging around them. Arthur turned away, sipping his tea with scorn. Despite what his brother was trying, there was no way that he was going to give up on his plan.

"Just think it over. There's plenty of time before you come of age."

He nodded, but they both knew that nothing would come from the very brief discussion. His brothers had dictated every second of his life. But no more. It was more than just a shop, more than just rebuilding the family name. This shop had to do with his freedom. He didn't belong here, but maybe he would there.

* * *

Arthur looked down at the paper in his hand, and for the umpteenth time asked himself if this was a wise decision. Amir had indeed found his grandfather's papers, and while he couldn't give them all to Arthur, he handed over a sizable amount. After all, his brother was planning on selling some of these documents to General Winter.

He had read the documents for hours, amazed at his grandfather's findings. And just as he was about to retire to bed, he saw it.

A summoning seal.

As far as he knew his family only ever had **one** Spirit: Amir. So then, whose summoning seal was this? He knew for certain that it was not Amir's. While he didn't know every detail, he knew the overall shape, and this – this was not it.

Amir's was a crescent shape, not a full on blazing sun. Had his grandfather had more than one Spirit? And if so, then why had no one mentioned it?

Arthur wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood. "You'd think Amir would mention another Spirit hanging around."

He glanced warily at the paper one more time. He wasn't too keen on Spirits, he didn't want to be associated in any way shape or form to his brothers "alchemy", but this spirit must have meant something to his grandfather if he was willing to not just keep the summoning seal, but hide it.

"It looks about right…" he scratched his head nervously. He had never summoned a Spirit before. He had read how to go about it, but had never felt inclined to summon one of his own. But for his plan to succeed he needed a Spirit to help him.

"I suppose it's time." Arthur stood before the Symbol of the sun on the ground. It had taken him hours to draw out the symbol, any imperfections and he would not be summoning whoever had formed the contract with his grandfather.

Thumps sounded from around the house, but he pushed back the curiosity at the origin of the noise. Amir had told him that General Winter would be arriving at the manor in the very wee hours of the day. Maybe they were preparing for his arrival? "Doesn't matter. For once I've got something interesting around me."

Arthur circled the symbol on the ground, his body firm and steadfast. There would be no turning back, but that was fine, because he was prepared. "Spirits hear my cry, I summon you from the Otherside!" he crouched down, his hands growing warm as his flesh touched the symbol, "Come to me and cross the great divide!"*

Silence slowly filled the room, it wrapped around Arthur squeezing the sound from the air till he could hear absolutely nothing, not even the sound of his own heat.

Then he heard it. The sound of water dripping, but he was in the basement of the manor, there was no water there. "What the hell is –"

Blinding light filled the room, and for a terrifying second Arthur feared he was blind. He rolled away from the symbol, the walls and floor shaking as if being torn apart by the earth itself. He covered his face as he cursed up a storm. Slowly his vision returned, spotted and fuzzy from their bout with the light. He peaked out from his arms, but he could see nothing but the blinding light. Just as he was about to close his eyes once more, he saw it. Grand wings seeming to form from the very air before him.

"What in the world…? _Wings_?"

The Spirit walked out from the blinding light, which dimmed with each footstep, wings stretched out before her. Vibrant blue eyes met his confused emerald gaze, and before he knew it, he was right side up, strong hands holding him up in the air.

"Dude, _you're_ the one who summoned me?"


End file.
